Two Worlds Collide: A Naruto&Harry Potter Story
by Lizander
Summary: The world has ended, and the wizards no longer live in Britain. Where are they today? [Was originally written as an introduction to my RPG site, also known as my home page.] This is my first fiction, so any comment is appreciated. Thank you in advance if
1. Chapter 1

Taken from Ginny Wealey's Diary

**Many thanks to KyahDreaming from http/ashwinder. for being my beta!**

**DISCLAIMER: Yada, yada, yada. I don't own any of these characters. Including Ted Grimaus, I'm too cheap to feed him. **

I was sitting against the cold, hard, floor with my back against the wall, trying to eat a piece of bread. I'd woken up extra early so I could steal a few slices for myself and my brother. However, it seemed that my brother was fine without my help, he'd taken a couple of extras himself. We were constantly underfed in this dungeon, food rations had always run low, but this was the only safe place left. I nicked a copy of the Daily Prophet from the table (to keep the pilfered bread company), though I wonder how they run the Daily Prophet in this situation. Now's not the time to ponder on that, I remember thinking, as I brought the bread to my mouth with one hand while the other opened the Daily Prophet to it's first page. "The War has Ended: The Dark Lord is Vanquished! " it screamed. The moving picture on the front page portrayed a battlefield painted with bodies of the death eaters, and the innocent, but it matters not. What that matters is that they're all dead. Dead. The word echoed in my head, and it left me with a lurching stomach. I no longer felt like eating, but I made sure to keep the bread in my fist. My eyes scanned the articles that followed the picture:

"The Dark Lord was vanquished last night by The Boy Who Lived and Albus Dumbledore himself. At first it seemed that the Dark Lord was bound to be the victor, but a creature created by The Boy Who Lived's Patronus was instrumental in bringing down The Dark Lord. That was the turning point of the battle; the outcome was most devastating. Albus Dumbledore was in critical condition at the end of the battle, and before the medi-witch could get to him, he had passed. The Wizarding World is deeply mourning for his death. As for the Boy Who Lived, he seems to have disappeared."

I glanced around, seeing nothing but bodies, curled up and sleeping, and thought, _Their faces looked so innocent_. Turning sideways I saw my brother-- a piece of bread trapped between his jaws --reading the Daily News intently, flipping rapidly through the pages. I caught a small smile on his face, just before it slinked away into nothing. He also had a copy of the Daily Prophet, but he wasn't staring at the cover page. He was perusing another section; a section that I hadn't seen before. I watched his eyes frantically scan the pages, and curious, I did the same thing. All I saw was names, names that were not familiar to me. The bread in his mouth fell with a thunk to the floor as he whispered, "They're dead," over and over again. My body felt cold, completely numb; it was as if someone had ripped out my guts and flung them across the hall. I clutched at my brother, hoping to find comfort in him and at the same time give him solace, but it was just impossible. His pupils dilated, his mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but the words never made it out. His whole body was shuddering against mine. I clung to him and he clung to me.

I sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder, trying in vain to muffle the sounds of my sobbing, and held my brother tight, while he reciprocated my actions. He was neither crying nor saying those words over and over again, but he held me. That was all I needed. After a moment or two, I started to realize that he was no longer holding me; his body was relaxed, and his breathing slowed -- not at all like his usual quick, shallow, breathing rate. Concerned, I pulled back, and examined his face. His features were relaxed, pupils still dilated, and a smile stretched his mouth that never quite reached his eyes. It was not the kind of cold smile that makes you shudder, but that strange, sick smile that you makes you pity, and yet feel disgusted with yourself for feeling sorry for them. My heart stopped beating, my breath hitched, and my eyes felt hot with tears again. Just looking at him broke my heart, and as more the tears filled spilled forth, I pulled him against me, and sobbed into his shoulder again. This time, however, his limp body rested against mine effortlessly, as if he was a puppet. And that was what had broken my heart the most.

It wasn't until I heard the familiar voice of Ted Grimaus that I relinquish the grip I had on my brother, and wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. I might not have anything right now, but I will maintain my dignity, dammit. The Weasley family has always been underestimated by the wizarding community -- just because my father happened to have a strange fascination for muggles, and the lack of galleons in our Gringotts account -- for far too long, and I refused to let this nonsense go on any longer. The Weasley family will not vanish, and that is my resolution. With that in mind, I pushed my brother gently down, and tucked him into his bed. It will only make matters worse if the others found out about my brother's condition -- though I realize that it is inevitable.

Ted Grimaus' booming voice echoed through the dungeon, announcing that the morning has arrived. With that tone, a few bodies -- at most, five -- stirred, though they did not make any attempt to sit up right. That was when it occurred to me that time had passed; a cold feeling shot down my spine. It means that at least half of the occupants of this dungeon had read the Daily Prophet, and had seen me cry. Immediately, my eyes scanned the room, and glared at every single person who had given me a pity-smile. I do not need your pity. When I had finished glaring at everyone in the dungeon, I dropped my gaze, and stared at my hands. Guilt invaded me; I was not the type of person who can be mean to another human being, it was just not me. In fact, it goes against my mother's teaching -- mother. I stopped my train of thought -- it just hurt too much, what with such a fresh wound -- and felt another sting in my eyes. I bit my lip, secretly pinched my own thumb until it screamed with pain, just so those tears will not spill. I will not break, I tell myself.

Again, Grimaus' voice boomed through the dungeon, and instead of his usual boring announcement -- today's announcement caught my attention, heck I was even surprised! He stated that the war had originally really ended two weeks ago.


	2. Chapter 2

Taken from Ginny Wealey's Diary

**Many thanks to KyahDreaming from http/ashwinder. for being my beta!**

**DISCLAIMER: Yada, yada, yada. I don't own any of these characters. Including Ted Grimaus, I'm too cheap to feed him. **

I've missed seeing the sun! Being trapped in a boat has made my skin pale and my complexion sickly. My eyes took a while to adjust; it's been one month exactly since I last saw the sun, and my body aches under its radiant heat while my brother groans beside me. Sometimes he seems to be improving, he's learned to say my name and a couple of short phrases, though at other times he speaks gibberish. He's suffering from a mental breakdown; his mind has been in shock since he learned of the death of our parents. I walked on, supporting my brother, and trying to look valiant. It would do us no good if we walked into town looking like beggars. I don't really have a clue as to where we are. After the war, the Ministry of Magic had decided that if the wizarding community was to survive, then it would have to leave Magical England, which was no more than rubble. The once cheery and hectic Diagon Alley was reduced to debris strewn with bodies; even Hogwarts with its looming towers had been reduced to smoking foundations. The great castle had collapsed, bowing down to the power of the once powerful Dark Lord as Albus Dumbledore himself had done. They told the muggle Prime Minister to pass if off as a gas explosion; the same excuse they used when Sirius Black "assassinated" Peter Pettigrew. The Ministry of Magic never told us the exact reason why we had to move away from Magical England, though I'm quite sure that it had something to do with the muggles. After all, it is kind of hard to explain to muggles how a gas explosion could kill so many people…or maybe the muggles' Prime Minister decided to no longer allow wizards to live in England? That is, perhaps, the reason why we were forced to leave. In fact, now that I think about it, it seems likely that's the answer. If I was the Prime Minister, I would have done the same. The Dark Lord had, after all, killed so many muggles that I've lost track. I shouldn't meddle; just leave it to the adults. Curiosity Killed The Cat-- and I prefer to live. So, here I am, lugging my brother into this new world, trying, and failing, to not look pathetic.

The wind caressed my cheek, its touch gentle and welcoming. I lift my head to take a look at my surroundings. Some people bustled along while others stood and stared at us. Behind me I heard mutterings from my fellow wizards; they were hissing about the Ministry of Magic with a hint of fear in their voices. A mix of emotions overpowered me: fear, anxiety, and anger. I walked on, hoping that someone would take pity on me and my brother, yet at the same time hoping they wouldn't. This mix of emotions was killing me, second by second. Their glares on my back were burning a hole in my head; I could feel it! I walked on, chin held as high as I could manage, and pretended not to notice them.


	3. Chapter 3

Taken from Ginny Wealey's Diary

**Many thanks to KyahDreaming from http/ashwinder. for being my beta!**

**DISCLAIMER: Yada, yada, yada. I don't own any of these characters. Including Ted Grimaus, I'm too cheap to feed him. **

We finally reached the Inn, and thankfully, there were enough rooms for all 60 of us wizards. Yes, 60 is the number of wizard left in this world; all the others had sacrificed their lives in battle. I sighed. I remembered that the wizarding world was once filled with joy, and though there was sadness, it hadn't been constant. I'd made my way up to my room, lugging my ever-so-heavy brother up the staircase-- it was no easy task. Though he's lost a lot of weight, he's still a little bit heavier than I am. After a couple minutes of struggling, I finally reached my room. Thankfully, it was near the staircase. The door of my room seemed to be made out of paper; it ripped easily, I noticed, as I poked a hole through it. The material wasn't paper, I was sure of that, but I was just too tired to find out what it really was. I laid my brother on the nearest bed and he fell into a deep slumber immediately. I sat on the edge of the bed as my eyes scanned the room, and I came to a realization: I had nothing. I remembered, as my eyes brimmed with silent tears, a time when I had everything that I longed for right now: A sane brother and…my parents. I clasped my hands together, lowered my head for a moment, then stood up. "I need to take a shower," I muttered, eager to get my mind off things.

I made my way down the stairs, and out into the courtyard. Someone had told me that that was where the bathhouse was. "Out in the open", I muttered, and shivered at the cold wind whipping against my skin. I tiptoed to the bathhouse, not wanting to disturb anyone, and entered a stall. Just as I was undressing, I felt something in my pants. My wand! I gaped, I still had my wand. I shook my head, disbelieving. My wand had not snapped, it was still in mint condition. I was overjoyed, and had I not been so tired, I would have jumped up and down and cheered. I placed my sacred wand on the floor, knowing that it would get wet otherwise, and took a quick shower. Having no other clothes to change into, I wore the same clothes over and over again. "Tomorrow," I told myself, "I'll get a job." My mind had calmed for the moment, and I was feeling a little bit better. I clutched my wand in my hand, and made my way up to my room once again.

I collapsed on the couch, and turned my head to look at my brother. He looks so peaceful, like a little angel, I thought, and my eyes brimmed with tears once again. I lifted my hand, which felt like it was made out of lead, and pointed my wand in his direction. I had cast a warming spell over him, for he seemed to be shivering a bit. It might have been a trick of the light, but I still felt obligated. Then I summoned a blanket for my self. "Accio Blanket," I muttered in the dark, not exactly caring who I stole this blanket from. After all, something must come from something and nothing can come from nothing. I closed my eyes, and a phrase floated through my mind: "Before dawn comes darkness." Perhaps this new world will be better for us all, I hoped fervently before I fell into a deep slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

Taken from Ginny Wealey's Diary

**Many thanks to KyahDreaming from http/ashwinder. for being my beta!**

**DISCLAIMER: Yada, yada, yada. I don't own any of these characters. Including Ted Grimaus, I'm too cheap to feed him. **

Exhausted, I climbed up to my small apartment on the third floor. I inserted my key, turned the doorknob to the right, and the door creaked in response. I see a body tensing in the dim light.

"It's alright, Ron, it's only me," I assured him. His body relaxed, then he craned his neck to look at me. His eyes seemed to have glazed over, but his mouth was smiling. I smiled back as I approached. Hovering over him, I asked, "What are you doing?" He stayed silent, and I took a quick glance at what he was doing. My mouth dropped open; he was doing a cross word puzzle from today's "The Emancipation of Plebeians" , whose motto is "We Publish The Right News, the Right Way". Granted, their cross word puzzle is not that hard to solve, but it was still is a wonder for my brother to make an improvement so quickly. "It matters not", I told myself.

My eyes scanned his work, and to my surprise, I saw that he had most of them right. A small gasp escaped my lips without my consent, and he caught it. "What's the matter, sis?" His tone was soft, as though he was a child, and it saddened me. My brother, the one filled with quirks, laughter, and an over-the-top imagination, no longer existed. My brother -- whose fiery red hair seemed to have grown pale, and whose freckled face was white and sickly -- tipped his head sideways, and in those trusting eyes I saw a mere six year old. Forcing a smile to my lips I told him, "Nothing," -- and he nods, accepting my lame excuse. I moved away from him, and left him whistling a tune that I had not heard for ages. I wished now that I had gone and asked Ron about it rather than leaving him there to work on his puzzle while I went down the stairs to take a shower.

So here I am, staring at my diary, while my brother sleeps. The candles burn low, their shadows flickering in a mesmerizing dance. My brother's whistling haunts me, it's soft, yet catchy tune replaying itself over and over again in my mind, while my hand moves across this paper effortlessly. My ears twitch upon hearing a grunt coming from my brother. As he turns to me his face gleams in the moonlight -- looking vulnerable and innocent -- and my heart aches. What has he done to deserve this? Nothing; he doesn't deserve it. I bow my head, and allow myself to wallow in self-pity.

"I'm going to be strong for him," I tell myself, with my head still bowed. Grabbing my pencil once more, I gripped it tight, almost crushing the wood beneath my finger, and start to write again.


	5. Epilogue

It's been a month since we arrived on this island. The people in the village are quite friendly, and I've noticed that hostile glares are slowly tapering off. My brother is progressing along nicely. He's capable of talking in proper English, though he seems to have no memory of being a wizard nor of mom and dad. I, myself, have a job as apprentice to Mr. Nakohiro Taki. He pays me quite well, and I've accumulated a few possessions of my own, as well as a few friends. Mr. Taki is a very patient person, and very well-liked in the neighborhood.

It was only today that I realized who all these people were. As I walked from Mr. Taki's store to my current apartment, I saw a few people, who were mortals mind you, up on the trees. Their balance was impeccable, and they jumped from tree to tree with such agility you would have thought that they were monkeys. I continued to stare at them, even though I knew that staring was rude, I could not help myself. At last I came to a conclusion, a conclusion that I've known for over a month, and yet denied. They were ninjas, strange as that was.

I'd been denying the fact that the people I lived with were mortals – not simply mortals, but mortals who can actually perform some type of magic. The sheer thought about it makes me feel powerless. I no longer feel the surge of power that normally comes rushing through my veins whenever I'm near these mortals. I am no stronger than they are. However, I do have to admit that this place seems to be blanketed by tranquility; a tranquility that was never present in muggle London. Much as I missed having power over muggles -- I never realized that I felt this way until now -- I think I prefer living here, with these ninjas.

Things aren't as bad as they were before, when we just arrived in this town. Thankfully, the people here aren't so paranoid towards wizards as muggles in London were; they accepted us with welcoming hands -- well, at least most of them did -- once they knew what had happened to us. I remember well first day I set foot in this village, the stares that followed me everywhere, and the whispers that spoke of uncertainty. Things have changed-- everyone had learned to live together in peace -- well, most of us anyways. Perhaps Father was right, things do happen for a reason.


End file.
